On Vacation: Cafe du Monde
by coldfusion9797
Summary: Steve and Bucky enjoy some delicious beignets at Café du Monde in New Orleans. Steve/Bucky fluff.


**AN: I'm just back from travelling overseas and while I was away I found myself imagining my favourite characters in the places I visited. Figured I may as well write about it. Enjoy!**

On Decatur Street in the French Quarter of New Orleans sits a café that has continually traded there since 1862, making it the oldest such establishment in the world. For one hundred and fifty-two years Café du Monde has been satisfying caffeine cravings and delighting the tastes buds of its countless customers. In 2014, under the shade of its distinctive green and white awning sit the men once known as Captain America and the Winter Soldier. Now they are simply called Steve and Bucky. They sit at a small round table, amongst a myriad of other people doing exactly the same thing. The sound of conversation ebbs and flows around them, it's a place that has an unusual way of making you feel separate from, and at the same time a part of, the world around you. It's a strange sense of privacy in the middle of a crowd.

"I like this place," Steve decides, "it's been around longer than we have. People doing exactly the same thing they've done here for a hundred and fifty years..." Bucky looks up at him, unable to answer, his mouth crammed full of delicious beignet. These French donuts are the only item on the menu. They are served on small, white plates, three triangles of fried pastry under a mountain of powdered sugar. At first glance it appears to be far too much but after one bite Steve realises it's actually just right. He should've known better than to doubt a century and a half's experience.

What he really likes about the café is that it's a place that makes you feel like everyone else. Once, he was proud to stand out but he's been different for so long now it's nice to blend in. Most everyone is happy and relaxed, there are no decisions to be made here, with one item on the menu it's just a matter of taking a seat. No matter the time of day, because the café is open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, people will be here, waiting for their order. The clientele may vary throughout the day, families in the morning, exhausted tourists escaping the Louisiana heat in the afternoon, drunk partygoers late at night hoping to soak up some excess alcohol, but whatever their stories they are all eating beignets. One point of difference though is in the way everyone is tackling their food, but the aim is the same; to eat their beignet in a way that will leave them with the least amount of sugar ending up on their face or clothes. No matter their past, or present, or walks of life there is no avoiding that the sweet, white powder is tricky to handle, and that you will most likely end up wearing it. The common struggle brings a sense of unity to the people gathered here. Some people try tapping most of it off, admittedly Steve initially tried that too, but he quickly learned the sweetness of the sugar is needed to balance out the flavour of the fried cottonseed oil. In this aspect though, maybe Bucky still isn't quite like everyone else. He'd dived straight in and now had a white smudge of powdered sugar on his nose, achieving the near impossible task of making him even more adorable. Steve bestows a soft smile on him and reaches across with a napkin to wipe it away.

"Thanks," Bucky manages.

"Guess you like them huh?" Bucky nods, having taken another bite already. Steve can't argue, they do have an undeniably addictive quality. He picks his own beignet up, ignoring the sugary mess, and sinks his teeth through the golden crunch into the warm, fluffy centre of the pastry. As he chews the dough he savours the blend of textures and flavours. The crispy outer shell, the smooth inner cake. The oily, almost bitter taste of the dough, coupled with the super sweet sugar. He swallows the mouthful and can't help licking his fingers, the combination of the warm oil and soft powder creating a sticky syrup on his skin. He takes a sip of his drink then, they've opted for ice coffee to accompany their food as it's so hot out today. Even the colourful mules down by Jackson Square are completely unimpressed by the sweltering heat, but here in the café at least, it's bearable.

"Wanna head over to Frenchman Street tonight?" Bucky suggests, taking a breather from scoffing the donuts. Actually, he's finished them. "I feel like some real music."

"Sounds good," Steve agrees and Bucky is right. So much of the trash they try to pass off as music these days is just noise. But jazz is jazz, it's the same now as it was in the forties. Back then though Steve had been waiting for the right partner...

"You've got that look on your face again," Bucky teases.

"Sorry," Steve says, "it's just these beignets, I think I'm in love." He finishes with an adoring look at the donut before taking another bite. Bucky shakes his head and chuckles, but Steve does notice the shameless way he watches when Steve licks his fingers clean. And while the powdered sugar is very sweet it's not the sweetest thing he's ever tasted. Bucky licks his lips and Steve wonders if he somehow knows what Steve's thinking; that nothing is as sweet as Bucky.

**AN: Credit for the last line of this fic has to go to TreasureHunterGirl. She came up with that little piece of gold, thanks sis!**


End file.
